Yesterday we celebrated Reformation Sunday by singing “A Mighty Fortress” and quaffing beer and debating theology.  Remember, it was Luther who quipped, “Whoever drinks beer, he is quick to sleep; whoever sleeps long, does not sin; whoever does not sin, enters Heaven! Thus, let us drink beer!”.

And so I kept a few folks safe from sin last night as we gathered at the local bar… (there are days I really love my work!)

The topic of the night was Reformation – specifically Reformation regarding the church.  I asked what needed to be changed about the church, and what was worth preserving.  What was interesting was not how hard it was to keep the group on target (it always is), nor how one of our group brought a list and a picture of the Wittenburg door, but how difficult it was to speak in generalities.  We wanted to talk about OUR church – not some larger denomination or Christendom in general.

On the ride home, I answered my own questions with an eye toward the larger church.  There’s much I’d keep – from our polity, to much of our music (although I’d continue to hope we’d explore new forms and styles) – I’m Presbyterian because I choose to be so.  There’s much I love about my denomination.

What I would change?

• I want a church that is more passionate about its beliefs, especially in terms of justice and mission.  I want a church on fire.
• I want a church where the membership is invested in more than Sunday morning worship.
• I want a church that strives to be more inclusive and realizes that this will always be an issue as long as there is a division between us and them.
• I want a church that is willing to sacrifice in order for the Good News to be spread.
• I want a church that taps the creativity of the people in worship – embracing our learning differences in ways that expand our ability to praise our God.

It’s Monday morning after Reformation Sunday.   I don’t have a door to post these on, but I do have a blog and a presence in the ether of the internet.  The question becomes what we do the day after, no?

It’s time to start living and acting on what we believe.  And as with all change, I realize it needs to begin with me.

At last night’s youth group I used the old ethics game that proposes a scenario in which nuclear annihilation is imminent, and the local bunker can only house 4 individuals/units.  The question becomes who survives amongst a cast of characters – and who does not.

What was fascinating was listening to the rationale for the choices they made.  The group was divided into guys/gals, which added another level to the conversation.  The guys decided the pregnant woman with the 5 year old would be ‘annoying’, but that the drug-addicted hippie couple should be kept because “they would at least know how to grow something”.  The girls chose the scientist.  Neither group chose the Lawyer.  Or the clergyperson, for that matter.  😉

As we went down the list, one of the young women in the group stated how uncomfortable the conversation made her.  As we ticked through the list of why they thought folks weren’t worthy (mental illness, the elderly, the disabled) the discomfort in the group grew.  I asked them if their list would change if they knew the race or sexual orientation of the individuals in question.  More discussion.  More discomfort.

When asked if this sort of thing ever occurred in the ‘real world’ there was silence.  And then a few nods.  We talked about discrimination and as they approached the age of employment and college applications how decisions were made.  We also talked about how difficult it was to make ethical decisions in the ‘real world’; but how complex reality really is.

Would that some of the politicians (real and armchair) have some of the wisdom of these young people when they suggest simple solutions (like closing the borders to prevent the spread of Ebola to the US) to complex ethical problems.  Heck, I’d be a bit happier if some of the talking heads confessed some degree of discomfort at what they are suggesting.

I wonder what the youth would have done if I added a politician to the list?

A few weeks back my Facebook page was flooded with memes of gratitude – it seemed like everyone, and everyone’s cousin was posting what they were thankful for.  At the same time, our book group was reading Pollyanna (yes, that Pollyanna – the one you never actually read, but you remember the Haley Mills version that Disney put out) and the world seemed ready to burst with words like “glad”, “fortunate” and “blessed”.

It was interesting to see how many times those words were used in the same sentence as “God”.

Apparently, the folks I friend on FB have no problem giving God the Glory (which is a wonderful and appropriate thing) but while I was reading all of these stories of gratefulness and God intertwined every rare once in a while I’d read something that suggested that there was a contractual arrangement in all of this.

Basically, it looks like this:  If I have faith in God, God will deliver prosperity and security.

There’s a few wee problems with this theology (sometimes called Prosperity Theology or Prosperity Gospel).

First of all – God delivering prosperity (I have a sudden image of the Creator of the Universe standing at my door with a pizza box) because *I* have faith kind of discounts the whole Grace thing.  There’s really nothing I can do to help along my salvation.  Grace alone does that.   It’s a free gift.  There’s no quid-pro-quot.

Second?  It discounts the sufferings of a good many people of faith who are never on the receiving end of prosperity OR security.  I don’t need to take this to the extreme and list martyrs – just look at the pictures of folks in non-first world countries praying for enough food/clean water.

Third – look to scripture.  The sun shines on the just and the unjust in Job, and in the Gospels we have folks with oodles of camels finding the humble dromedary has a better shot of going through the eye of a needle than they have of finding the Kingdom of Heaven.

Yeah, I hate to break it to you, but giving so that you can receive (as opposed to giving out of response for the love that you’ve been shown) isn’t going to work.  That’s not to say that when you give of yourself wonderful things won’t happen.  Or that there isn’t some value in the idea that by putting good out there in the world, the world becomes a better place (and hey, you MIGHT be a beneficiary of that!)… just don’t think for a minute that it’s possible to read the whole of scripture and think that you can “name it and claim it” because you’ve paid your dues.

Can I offer an alternative?

Accept what you’ve been given as a gift from God and give thanks for those gifts.  Then use those gifts as a means of responding to all that you’ve been given.  Use your time, talent and treasure to live out the Gospel in ways that point back to the One who gave you those gifts.  And be grateful for the opportunity to do so.

Love the hymn, but it’s a bit presumptuous, isn’t it? I mean, who are we to assume that the cause we are advocating is that which God would smile upon?

I’ve sung this hymn many times before – from seminary, to worship services on various levels (GA, Presbytery and my own wee kirk) – but I have never been more certain that I was marching in the light of God than I was this past Sunday. I was amongst the 400,000 people who participated in the People’s Climate March in NYC. I marched with a good friend from our congregation and my spouse with the Faith-Based folks. We gathered on 58th street, some 10,000 strong. We waited our turn to join the great parade.

And we sang as we waited: “We are marching in light of God!”

And if the walk was a bit surreal, and at times I felt quite detached… standing there with folks from other faith groups (and an inflatable mosque at the front of the queue) all of us singing (we are marching, we are marching, we are marching OH!) I knew with certainty that there was nothing presumptuous at all about it.

We (this marvelous, jaw-dropping collective WE) were marching in the light of God.

My prayer is that this collective energy propel us forward to work towards sustainable stewardship as we march onward in the Light!

Are you an innie or an outie?

You may not be sure. Oh, you may know most of the inside jokes, and speak the language, but are you really “in”? And some of us are so much on the outside that we don’t even know there is an outside!

We work hard at determining who belongs, though. Whether they are wearing the wrong clothes, or involved in the wrong hobby or living in the wrong areas of the country (or county, or town, we’ve developed ways of sorting out those ‘in the know’ and those who are clueless. Even those of us who see ourselves as progressive and inclusive have our ‘preferences’.

Even geeks like me -who were habitually not on the inside of many popular groups- look snidely at the wannabees. We’re the ones who know that Kirk never said “Beam me up, Scotty” and Joe Friday never uttered “Just the facts, ma’am” (and lest you think I’m only geeky and obsessed when it comes to television, it’s not “Lead on, MacDuff” either!).

To be fair, some of this is quite natural. Birds of a feather, and all of that. But in so many ways it is destructive. Churches split over who is invited to the Table, and communities break into upheaval when it’s clear certain individuals are targeted based on color or race or creed or orientation. Are you in? Are you out?

The destructive part comes not so much from the decision as it does from who gets to decide. When the power to determine ‘who sits where’ is in the hands of anyone but the person who wants to sit… the innie/outie game is played, and what follows ranges from oppression to war.

Scotland (home of the aforementioned Engineer with beaming up abilities) goes to a vote tomorrow to decide if it wants to be in, or out. I really don’t have an opinion (and since I don’t live in Scotland, that’s probably okay) but the root causes for this vote reminds me of similar actions elsewhere in the world. On some level aren’t we all asking where we belong, and to whom we belong? Aren’t we the one that should decide what lunch table we sit at, or where on the bus we’re most comfortable?

Count me amongst those who don’t care where the eventual vote lands…. but also amongst those who are grateful that it is the Scots themselves who will make this choice. The right to self-determination is a rare and incredible thing to behold.

Alas, this isn’t about an addition to my exercise routine (spinning), nor is it a nod to my fiber-spinning passion and the ongoing Tour de Fleece.  It’s about that situation where you find yourself putting your foot on the gas pedal and expecting something to happen… but all that happens is your gas gauge diving and your blood pressure rising.  It’s where I’ve been for the last month or so – getting up every morning and applying liberal amounts of coffee but not seeing any results (other than being put on medicine for hypertension).

I know from discussion with others that this isn’t an uncommon experience.  I can also trace some of the reasons I ended up in this position (actually falling on my face and some of the medical implications began the downward spiral).  What I’m struggling with is get that push to get out of the rut.

So… I’m looking for a few brave folks willing to give me a solid push.

I often preach about the importance of community.  There are times when the community of faith surrounds us and lifts us up.  There are times, however, when what is most needed is a well-placed kick where it’s needed most.  I know, in part, by owning up to my wheels spinning I’ve begun to crawl out of the mush I’m in… but feel free to give me a nice firm poke as well.

Tonight we will gather in an unusual spot. Instead of the Chapel, or the Sanctuary, we’ll gather in Fellowship Hall around a Table that’s set with unleavened bread, juice (and wine!) as well as humus, cheese and fruit.

Tonight begins with laughter and feasting and friendships. It continues with the opportunity to re-tell the story of Passover (perhaps, just perhaps with a rendition of “Let My People Go” thrown in for good measure).

It really is a joyous thing, you know?

The story of oppression overcome by the grace of God and a people willing to put their feet on the ground and start walking. So, we’ll share wine and bread and story and song and hear the words of Jesus that provoke us to think that perhaps, just perhaps, there is still more oppression that needs liberation and that His broken body and spilled blood play a part in that.

And so we’ll head from the Table, slightly buzzed with the Fellowship and the Grace that abounds (and wine!) and go to the garden to… wait? pray? wonder? sleep? And as we walk to the garden, the concerns of the day intrude and we can’t help but think of the story about liberation and freedom and hope. For there is so much oppression in this world. So much.

Perhaps, we’ll become overwhelmed or bored with it all, and find ourselves drifting off to sleep while our friend prays.

Perhaps we’ll reflect for just a moment on how we actively take part in the oppression of other; willingly sacrificing another for a few measly shekels of savings.

Perhaps, just perhaps, we’ll was our hands of it all; stating that it’s really not our business.

His body broken. His blood spilled.

We have this incredible opportunity to engage with the story as a courageous people of faith, but tonight we’ll acknowledge that there are times when we are Peter, Judas and Pilate. We become apathetic. We betray our values. We wash our hands of all involvement. Tonight and tomorrow we realize that we play a significant role in the story and it isn’t pleasant. Tonight we realize that we are the oppressors, the betrayers and those who pass-the-buck.

But deep down, we also know that the tomb will be empty.

And that tomorrow we’ll have a new chance to try again.
And that the story of release from oppression to liberation is also OUR story and that in the end, Love does win.

Love to garden, but don’t have the yard to do it in?  

Completely new to gardening, and looking for mentors and others to offer guidance?

Like the idea of a community garden instead of gardening in isolation?

Come be a part of OUR garden.  We offer an 8’x4′ raised bed, water and access to community tools.  You bring the seeds, plants and enthusiasm!  The cost to adopt a bed is $20/year, as well as offering 3 hrs. of ‘sweat equity’ each month.

Interested?  Contact Karen at karenchamis@hotmail.com

 

The Light and Love Community Garden is a project sponsored by the First Presbyterian Church of Roselle.

Sermon for Christmas Eve, 2013
(well, the proposed sermon… who knows what will happen between then and now!?)

There are some who believe that to live happier you need to lower your expectations. You’re not going to be a perfect… go ahead, fill in the blank:
wife
son
student
employee
grandparent

Lower your expectations of yourself and you’ll be happy!

It helps to lower your expectations of others too, right?
If your expectations are lower… it’s so much easier.

We’ve lowered our expectations in terms of entertainment.
(At least, that’s how I’d explain reality television)
Some of us try to lower our expectation of the holiday
(knowing it will never be like it was).
We’ve lowered our expectations of that new job
or that vacation
or that new fitness program
or what is waiting for you under the tree…

as Mary Carver, the author of Giving Up Fairy Tales writes:
“Let’s not waste our lives searching for perfection tied up with a fairy tale bow. Let’s choose, right now, to grab hold of our real lives, our true selves and embrace every second of this challenging, gritty, beautiful, messy reality that we have instead.”

Lower those expectations, folks. Grapple on to what is real and now and imperfect and give thanks for the mess and the chaos.

Honestly… and I’m not being sarcastic or snarky here… it does help to not expect life-changing things to occur at every new bend in the road…

but

as solid as that psychological advice may be for some of us
it’s lousy theological advice for all of us.

Here’s the thing.
We have lowered our expectations in terms of what this night means.
We have lowered our expectations in part because we don’t want to be disappointed
when peace doesn’t occur
and our child isn’t healed
and our bank account isn’t full because we really DO believe.

and so we lower our expectations of this Messiah
this world-changer
and we take the baby and put him in a manger
and in twelve days or so, we’ll take him out of the manger and put him in a box
and back on a shelf
until we think about Him at Easter time
along with peeps and chocolate rabbits.

And we miss the whole point of what God has done here.

Underneath your tree tonight is an unexpected gift.
If you unwrap your heart
you’ll find someone who will change this world in unexpected ways
but NOT if you look at it and decide to return it for something that’s a bit more flattering
or not as constrictive

This unexpected gift turns the world on its head
revolutionizing what we value
and what we hold dear

No wonder we try to put Jesus back in the box.
He’s so much safer there.

There’s been a big hullabaloo this year about how we’ve taken the Christ out of Christmas. That happened years before we started saying “Happy Holidays” instead of “Merry Christmas”. It happened when we really forgot what was happening here… on this night

when a child was born, not in a castle but in a stable
a child who would grow up to teach about how we needed to love one another
and love God
a child who would become a man that ate with sinners, hung out with prostitutes
a child who became an unexpected revolutionary – not against Rome (that was what the Messiah was expected to do) but against the religious authorities
a child who became a man who was crucified for all of the above
and who asked those who followed to be have the courage and strength and willingness
to follow in his steps
and bear our own crosses
and give selflessly

and THIS is why we put baby Jesus back in the box
because no one in their right minds would unwrap that gift if they knew what it held
no one in their right minds…

only those in their right hearts.

Part of the problem is our history. Unlike the shepherds in Luke’s Gospel who were assaulted by a band of angels and an image of glory incarnate… this is old news for many of us.

We’ve heard this story before.

And even if we can capture just for a moment that feeling of wonder and awe
of God-With-Us
it quickly fades.
I think sometimes we’re almost afraid to feel that wonder and awe again because it might give us hope…. and when we hope, we have great expectations. And when we raise our expectations, we may risk losing all hope when, once again, the world is unchanged.

It’s a risk.
I know.
It’s a risk for me too… to believe again that something that we celebrate this night actually mean something.
It’s a risk because it’s not just the baby born in Bethlehem, but the Son of Man who then calls us to be a part of that world-changing revolution.
It’s a huge risk.

But it is a risk work taking. And we don’t take this risk alone… but together.
So, let us raise our expectations of this night and what it means
let us raise our expectation that change can happen
peace is possible
healing can occur
We need to raise our expectations that this baby born in Bethlehem really meant something
really means something.
Something for our world…
something for our families and neighborhoods

Something for us. An unexpected gift. Amen.

There’s something about this season that leaves me wistful.

There’s a large part of me that wishes in my heart of hearts that I could go and worship on Christmas Eve in my home church.  It goes beyond the desire to be at Kenmore Presbyterian – I want to be at the Kenmore Presbyterian of, say, 35 years or so ago.  Specifically, I want to be at the late service (the adult service) sitting with my folks, the year when I dropped my (unlit!) candle and it rolled under the pews in front of us… so Dad and I held his candle together and sang Silent Night in harmony.  I want to reclaim the eggnog and fruitcake shared with Grandma and Grandpa Wyman, and I want to wait with my sister at the top of the stairs on Christmas morning… while Mom and Dad ‘made sure Santa came’.  I want that magic to occur all over again.

Obviously, I know I can’t return to these times that now exist only in my memory, but I desperately want to some days.  I’ve worked some of the traditions into my own family (eggnog thankyouverymuch) and we’ve incorporated some of Bill’s family traditions as well.  Each year, something changes as we get older, and I know that as years go on change will occur.

Although I’m wistful, It’s all good.  Change is not the only constant… love is there as well, and that is enough.

One of the things I struggle with is the expectation on the part of others that things won’t/can’t/shouldn’t change.  It doesn’t happen so often with the folks who are there all the time, in the middle of that slow ebb and tide, but rather the occasional folks – the ones who drop by once a month, or a couple of times a year.  For them, the change is less manageable, and more of a jolt to the senses.  Sometimes anger is expressed, or frustration.  I get it, I think.  I’m just not sure what to do with it.

See, I think there is an expectation that the Church (add in whatever group you choose here… book group, knitting, Bible Study, Tai Chi class, Moms Support, etc.) will always be there regardless of whether or not you are.  That things will continue on just as before, and will remain the same.  Therefore, it’s possible to step back into the group and things will pick up where you left off… except, that is as likely as my ability to return to the church and family of my childhood.

Things change.  And although the natural process of time changes things of its own accord, imagine the change that occurs to the group when you uproot yourself for other adventures?  When you’re not able to sing in the choir, or attend the support group of Caregivers because you’re now spending several months in Florida or have opted to pursue a new degree?  Regardless of the validity (and importance!) of the reason, without you the group changes.  Wouldn’t it be terribly sad if that weren’t the case?

We cannot reclaim the magic of what was.  We can remember it, and honor it by not worshiping it but rather understanding its context and celebrating new opportunities and new memories.  More importantly, we can realize the impact our lives have on each other, especially when we are in close community, and we can honor those currently present by not wistfully wishing for a time that has past.

Cheers!  To Christmas Past and Future, but especially Christmas Present!

(did someone say presents?!!)